


Le Moulin Rouge

by Faithful_14



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Baby Gay Haught, Courtesan Waverly, F/F, Nicolas is Nicole, One Shot, Role Reversal, They're British, period au, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithful_14/pseuds/Faithful_14
Summary: It's 1891 and Nicole has transformed herself into Nicolas; come to Paris to make a life for herself from London. On her first night in the city, she stumbles into the Moulin Rouge. Who might she meet there?Or simply the WayHaught Moulin Rouge AU





	Le Moulin Rouge

**Author's Note:**

> I'm awful with titles so please forgive me. This isn't based on the movie, though I'm a fan and the story has been heavily informed by it. Rather it's VERY loose historical fiction based on the actual place. 
> 
> Thanks goes out to my beta @coffeecup218! 
> 
> As a writer, I live for feedback- so if you'd be ever so kind, let me know what you think! I will love you forever and ever! It really does keep me writing if I know you're enjoying it.

The year was 1891, and it was Nicolas' first night in Paris. Having heard of the great Bohemian Revolution, he decided that he would take his art to France. An English transplant, he was here to start anew, to make something of himself. 

Having already secured lodgings in Montmartre, he took his time wandering the streets, attempting to gain his bearings. He was naive to the seedy underbelly of the city, and only when he was propositioned several times by so called "ladies of the night", did he realize quite what he'd gotten himself into. Nic was originally from a small town, its only claim to fame being its fishing industry. Sheltered wasn't the right word for it, and it left him and his brown eyes wide with unknowing. 

As darkness settled over the city, he found himself in a strangely lit section of town. There was an eerie glow that seemed to permeate the light fog settled around the city like blanket, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from. He realized that he was unsure of the way back and decided to follow the unnatural light, hoping to find some sort of solace at its origin. He didn't speak much French but he was sure he could get by. 

His hurried stride caused him to nearly fall flat upon his face as he navigated the cobblestone streets. It was only when he reached the source of the bright light, did he find that his trousers, uneven as they were, had become soaked at the bottoms from walking through shallow puddles. Cursing softly under his breath as he noticed this, his eyes cast their gaze upwards toward the blinding source of the light; a giant red windmill. The words 'MOULIN ROUGE' shown brightly in twinkling lights. This was something he'd seen very few times even in London. There had to be someone inside who spoke English that could help him. 

So with a hard swallow to work past the lump in his throat, he took a deep breath and pushed the heavy doors of the Moulin Rouge open. Once inside he was greeted with bright red, plush tapestries lining hallways that fanned out to either side of him. The din inside was monstrous, as well as the bustling of well dressed men and scantily clad women. 'What in the world...?' he thought to himself. They all seemed to be headed further into the establishment, whatever it was, so he followed the crowd. 

Another set of doors opened up onto an outdoor garden. There were cafe style tables set about, more electric lights, and a giant stucco elephant. The young Englishman was bewildered. His lack of language skills were a detriment in finding aid. He was tall, but no one paid him any mind. No one could hear his pleas for assistance, nor did he pick up any traces of English above the raucous noise and booming music. Aside from the huge elephant, which threw him for a loop entirely, there seemed to be another set of doors on the opposite end, leading elsewhere. Without any other option, he headed toward the source of the music.

Through this set of doors, his eyes were set upon a huge dance hall. At one end there was a band pit and a stage. At the center was the dance floor and surrounding it were tables, filled with men laughing and drinking. The bar was to his left and as he tried to concentrate on any one thing, he was nearly run down by several overzealous gentlemen. The band was in full swing and the dance floor was packed with more of the same gentlemen and scantily clothed women. Only when he gleaned the sight of a man slipping one of the women money, did he realize what he'd stumbled into; a brothel. His face was the picture of shock: slack jawed, eyes wide, and deathly pale, he was dumbfounded. How'd he manage to stumble into a brothel without knowing? But shaking off the realization, he focused on finding what he'd come in for in the first place. Help.

Having been shoved off to the side, he found himself near an empty table for two as he attempted to flag down one of the women drink servers. This however, was a mistake. Soon as his hand rose in attention, he was plunked down in the chair, a flurry of activity bombarding him as he was served. Before he knew it, there was a crystal glass filled half way with a strange green liquid, a plate with sugar cubes, and an odd looking spoon with holes in it. "Ma'am? Uh, Mademoiselle?" he asked to anyone who would listen. 

The woman that heard him was clad in only a corset and a large ruffled skirt, heels, and ripped stockings. Leaning down to his ear, she gave him an eyeful of her cleavage. The grin on her overly made up face was almost frightening as she asked, "Oui?"

With cheeks as red as apples, he averted his eyes and stuttered out, "I'm looking for help...can you understand me?"

Her brows rose in question, before she sighed and shook her head. Without another word she left his side at the table and disappeared into the crowd. Leaving Nic even more lost than he'd previously been. Trying to look after her, he managed to see between the throngs of men as they passed that she'd stopped next to the bar and was speaking with another woman. Their gazes found him through the crowd as the other one gave a nod to her counterpart. 

Smile fixed in place, this new woman sauntered her way over to his table and knelt beside him, "How can I help you, Monsieur?"

Relief washed over Nic like a crashing wave as he heard her perfect English and lilting British accent. "Thank the Lord; I’ve been trying to find someone to help me. I was trying to find my way back to my lodgings," he gushed out all at once. 

"Aw, why not stay and enjoy your drink for now Sir?"

"I...well..." he looked down at the green liquid in the glass before him. He'd have to pay for it anyway, so he figured he might as well drink it. "...What is it?"

The woman let out a musical laugh, which by the look of her extremely tight and worn corset must have truly been a labor. "It is Pernod Fils." She received a blank stare. "La Fee Verte?" Still blank. "Have you never heard of absinthe before?"

"Oh! Absinthe!" he blushed profusely, terribly embarrassed by his ignorance. 

The woman smiled at him, genuinely this time. Someone with this man's innocence was a rare find in her line of work. "May I show you?" 

Nic only nodded, too nervous to speak again. His eyes took in the woman's wardrobe, which wasn't much different than the last woman's. Same type of ruffled skirt, different colors and far more tattered, as well as the corset and heels. Except she was pretty; beautiful even. Long brunette hair held up in a bun, exposing her delicate neck and shoulders with an unobstructed view of her bosom. She was short, and something about her piqued Nic's interest. He couldn’t name or understand it and that caused him to be even shyer than embarrassed.

With a smile and nod, she stood and took the slotted spoon and placed it on top of the rim of the glass. She placed a cube of sugar on top of it, then took up a metal pitcher than had already been sitting on the table and slowly began to pour what appeared to be cold water over it. The cube of sugar dissolved under the water and into the glass, creating a strangely cloudy appearance to the once green liquor. Nic had certainly heard of the drink, but had never seen nor tasted it. He only knew that many artists like him claimed to be inspired by it. 

"And now you may drink...Careful now, it's strong for such a mild man," she gave him a playful wink. It caused him yet another blush. Assuming that was the end of her duties, she began to turn away from the table to get back to serving.

"Wait, Miss?" he spoke up before she could get out of earshot. 

Turning, she raised a brow at him, "Yes?"

"Would you mind giving me your name? So I may find you for assistance again?" he inquired. 

"It's Waverly," she smiled sympathetically before taking her leave of him. 

Nic felt better now that he'd found a person who spoke English. But he was admittedly not much of a drinker. And from what he'd heard in passing about absinthe...well, he wasn't quite sure he could handle it. Though, what was the old saying? When in Rome, do as the Romans do? With a shrug, he picked up the glass and brought it to his nose; immediately the scent of licorice burned his nostrils. He was excited by this as licorice was a favorite of his and downed the drink in one gulp. He sputtered, but not wanting to make a fool of himself further, he choked it down. Once he'd swallowed, he sat red faced, trying to catch his breath. 

In just minutes, he began to feel the effects of the drink take hold. His head began to spin and he felt light. No, Nicolas could not hold his liquor; especially on an empty stomach. And as he tried to get up and seek out Waverly, he fumbled, intoxicated. He didn't realize his drink was nearly seventy percent alcohol. He did succeed in finding her, after two near calamities and narrowly avoiding causing an all out brawl.

"W-Waverly, c-can you help me?" he slurred. He assumed she remembered that he needed help finding his way back to his lodgings, so he dug in his pockets for the money to pay her for the drink.

"Oh, well yes," she forced a smile. Waverly took his proffered money, which was far more than the drink cost, assuming he was acquiring her services. After tucking the money away in her corset, she nodded and motioned for him to follow. She was disappointed in a way that this shy, naive gentleman would require her. He seemed far too innocent for that. But she had a job to do, and no doubt she would find him simple to please. So she led the way out of the dance hall, back through the garden, and into the main building of the Moulin Rouge. 

Here she led him through the winding red velvet hallways and past rows of doors. Most of which were closed, until she came upon an open door, and ushered him inside the tiny room. It's only furnishings consisted of a metal bed frame with a dirty, stained mattress, and a dressing table. Once he was inside, she closed the door softly behind them and slipped the lock into place. 

"Please, have a seat and let me make you more comfortable," she gestured to the bed. 

"W-what are we...can you just...?" he sputtered as he sat, having difficulty keeping upright.

Waverly stepped in front of him with that same look of endearment, and knelt down, placing a finger to his lips. "Shhh. Do not worry, I will get you on your way soon enough," she attempted to placate him, taking her finger away. "What is your name Monsieur?"

"...N-Nicolas..." he lulled.

"Well Master Nicolas, please allow me to freshen up," she smiled and stood then, going over to the dressing table. There were a few items of make up laid out, and a bottle of perfume. As she began to touch up her appearance, she looked at him more closely in the mirror's reflection. 

He seemed young for the usual clientele that frequented the cabaret. She assumed him to be no more than twenty years of age. Upon closer inspection, she noticed how ill fitting his suit was. His jacket hung off him in awkward places, shoes and trousers were well past worn and his shirt was stained a dull yellow. His bow tie was too small for his neck and his top hat was too big, slipping past his eyes nearly every time he moved his head. His features were delicate, rather feminine, and his brown eyes were gentle. These were traits far away from the usual men she encountered and far more handsome. Not that it really mattered, she'd be paid regardless. Under normal circumstances, this was the kind of man she might want to court her. There was just something about him she couldn't quite put her finger on...

Once she was finished freshening her make up and perfume, she came back to stand before him. "Now, why don't you lie down?" she removed his top hat to reveal short, shockingly red hair.

"But...I..." he mumbled. Gently she pushed him backward on the bed, before coming to straddle his waist. Everything seemed to have taken on a snowy glow for him then, and he felt warm. He imagined it was what it might feel like if he'd ever had a mother to hold him close and keep him safe. 

"Don't worry Master Nicholas. I am well experienced." With that, she leant down and pressed her lips to his gently, genuinely surprised by their softness.

If Nic had been sober, his whole world would have spun off its axis then. He did not respond at first, but after some gentle prodding, and further kissing, he found himself kissing her back. Within a few moments he felt as though the fog in his head was lifting. Almost as if he was waking from a dream. Could this be a dream? A lucid dream perhaps? Nicholas didn't know but the majority of him didn’t care. It felt so wonderful. His eyes fluttered closed against the room's light that now seemed harsh.

'There,' she thought to herself. Finally she got him to relax beneath her as she kissed him, running her small hands over his chest. Slowly, she moved her kisses to his jaw and neck, nipping gently as she moved her hands down to undo his trousers.

Nic had let himself go in that moment; rapturously enthralled in the fantasy that was unraveling before him. So Waverly continued to undress him from the waist down. She was used to getting straight to business, and no longer minded. But as she worked her way past his undergarments, she found something rather odd. Taking the excess cloth in her hand, she pulled and out came a wadded up handkerchief. "What in the...?" she exclaimed aloud. 

Picking his head up, Nic looked down, abruptly awoken from his dream; or nightmare as it was, and realized just what she had done. His eyes dilated in horror as he pushed her off and scrambled to stand up, holding his trousers to his body. "Please...you must..." 

Waverly was knocked to the floor in shock. What had she seen? Or rather, what hadn't she seen? "Wait...I...you...you're a..." realization slowly began to dawn on her. 

"NO! Please, I mean, yes. Just, please stay calm! I can explain!" he panicked. A dull ache now took the place of the pleasure that had only moments ago filled his senses.

Nicolas wasn't a man, he was a woman! "Oh my word!" she exclaimed softly.

"Wait, wait, please don't call the authorities! I...I'm sorry, I didn’t mean for this...I...you have to believe me!"

On her feet now, the courtesan stepped backward blindly and fell onto the seat of the dressing table in stunned silence. Nicolas' face was streaked with tears and sheer horror. 

"Please, you're not going to call the authorities are you?!" he, or rather, she begged. 

Waverly merely shook her head, too shocked to form words as everything fell into place. 

"J-just please, let me explain..." Nic took a seat on the edge of the bed carefully, intentionally so as not to frighten the other woman any further. "I came here by way of London. I was a servant, I wanted to be more. I thought that if I impersonated a man, I could do that. My name is Nicole, but I call myself Nicholas now, or Nic. Please, you mustn't tell anyone. I could be killed," she pleaded. 

Waves, as most others called her, only nodded in understanding. She would never have thought of such a cunning plan, but deeply understood the need to be something else. Something more. For the lots they had been dealt in life were poor ones, and the more she thought about it, she could not blame Nic for trying to better her suit. 

"Are you...alright? Will you keep my secret?" Nicole desperately needed to know whether or not her secret would be safe with Waverly. If she was found impersonating a man, working his jobs, she could be jailed. Or worse. If anyone else knew she would be ruined.

"Yes," Waves said softly. Realizing now why she'd felt a connection with 'him' before. It was strange. She knew others who worked the hall that catered to women as well as men, but she'd never been one of them. She'd never even really given it a thought; until now. 

"Really? You will?" Nic asked eagerly, wanting desperately to believe her. 

"Yes, really. I...I understand your desire to better your life. I long for it as well. I must admit that I rather admire you for it..." she replied. 

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from Nic's shoulders then. Her secret was safe, she was safe. Her shoulders began to quiver then, and tears started to stream down her cheeks once more.

Waverly was confused and concerned. She instinctively got up and sat beside Nic, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Shhh. Why do you cry so? You're safe here," she soothed.

"I-I'm…s-safe," Nicole sobbed out before immediately being embraced by the other woman.

"It's okay...shhh..." Waves rubbed a hand over her back and held her as she cried. She realized that what had just happened was extremely stressful; to say the least. As Nic started to calm, she coached her to take some deep breaths and pulled back. Their bodies were close, faces just inches apart. As Waverly's soft hazel eyes stared into the brown ones before her, her hand came up to gently brush away the remaining tears with her thumb from Nic's cheeks. The world seemed to slow then, and only the sound of their breathing could be heard as the women leaned into each other to lock lips once again. 

The kiss was tentative at first, but grew deeper as moments passed. The two women took comfort in one another and slowly found themselves lying down. Waverly was the first to pull away from the kiss, and looked questioningly into Nic's eyes as she began to undo the buttons of her shirt.

Nicole's heart was beating a mile a minute, but as Waverly looked into her eyes, she found safety there and nodded gently. Waves gave a small smile then and opened the front of the shirt to reveal a criss-crossing of fabric bound around her chest. She realized now that she saw the whole 'package', so to speak, just how much Nic had done and given up to better her life. She knew she'd never have that kind of strength, and gave the other woman that much more credit as she stared down at her, almost lovingly. They resumed kissing then, slowly and ever so steadily building their passion. 

Waverly helped Nic to sit up as she pushed the shirt from her shoulders and off. Tossing the stained remnants of the other’s facade away, she reached around to undo the binding and unwrapped it from her chest. Nicole's small but pert breasts were revealed and her nipples hardened when exposed to the cool air of the room. Waverly's pupils dilated as she slowly reached out to cup one gently. Leaning into her touch, Nic moaned softly.

Neither woman was entirely sure what to do, Nicole even less than Waverly because she had never made love before. She decided to go on instinct and began kissing the brunette again. After a long moment Wave pulled away. She turned slightly and asked, "Help me?" gesturing to her corset lacing. She turned around and Nic shyly leaned forward and began to undo the intricate lacing of the corset. As a servant she never wore one and was silently thankful for that. 

Once Wave's corset had been removed, both women finished undressing. Their clothes lay in a pile next to the bed and this time, Nic decided to take the lead. She lay down gently on top of Waverly, breath catching in her throat as their bare skin touched. Their breathing had become labored and was the only sound audible in the room, not even the loud raucous from the dance hall bothered them. 

Tentatively, Nicole began kissing Waverly again as she allowed her hands to wander down the other woman's body. Waves had a modest hour glass shape even without her corset and Nic relished tracing her gentle curves. She was taken aback by the beauty that was before her. It took courage she didn't know she had, but she lent down to take one of her nipples into her mouth. Waverly moaned, back arching in response. Her hands came down to tangle in Nic's short hair. Normally she took no pleasure in her customers, but none of that mattered now.

Nicole lightly placed kisses between Wave's breasts to take the other nipple into her mouth, tracing it with her tongue. The courtesan's chest heaved with each breath she took; she never knew sex could be like this. Pulling Nic up gently, she kissed her first real partner with unbridled passion. Nicole groaned into the kiss and pressed as close as was possible to Waverly. With the heat they generated, a light sheen of sweat became visible on Nic's exposed back. 

"Oh Nicole, please," Waves begged. Breaking from the kiss, the less experienced of the two women nodded and with bated breath moved one hand down to touch her lover's core. Waverly bucked her hips, urging her lover on. Nic moaned, feeling just how wet the other woman was for her. "I need you inside me, please..." Waverly pleaded. Carefully, Nic obeyed, gently sliding one slender finger inside Wave's womanhood. 

Waverly cried out and nearly frightened Nic. But slowly, she began to work up a rhythm; adding a second digit. Watching her own fingers disappear within her lover's folds was an astonishing sight.

"Nic..." Wave panted. Nicole looked up at her flushed face and carefully moved up her body.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, brows furrowed in concern, slowing her movements.

"No! No...I just...want to see your face," Waverly laughed softly.

Nic smiled in return and continued her ministrations. Waves threw her head back, giving the other woman room to place gentle, soft kisses upon her neck's exposed flesh. Her body writhed beneath Nic as she moaned; close. 

Wanting to be even closer, the less experienced woman slid an arm beneath Wave's back and pulled her against her body. Waverly wrapped her arms around Nicole's shoulders, breathing heavily next to her lover's ear; it was beginning to drive Nic mad. With even more determination, she pushed her lover to the edge, unknowingly brushing her clit with her thumb at each stroke. 

Waverly came then, chanting Nicole's name, nails digging into her back. Nic groaned in response and carefully laid the brunette back on the bed, gently pulling her hand away when the final spasms ceased. Both women lay panting, attempting to catch their breath as they came down from their high.

Some time later, lying in each others arms in the afterglow, Waverly mused, "I wish I could be as free as you, Nic. To never again have to sell my body just to eat..." Nicole was quiet for a long time. Wondering if she was asleep, Waverly asked softly, "Nic, are you awake?"

"Yes," she answered, though the quiet continued. She was lost in thought before being coaxed back to the present as Waves traced the soft contours of her body.

"May I ask you something?" She felt the other woman nod, "What was your life like? Back in England?" 

Exhaling a deep breath, Nicole adjusted herself in bed so she could sit up while holding Waverly. "I was an orphan. I grew up in a workhouse, Warminster Union in Wiltshire. I have no recollection of my mother. And I know not how I came to be there. I was twelve years of age when I was bought by a wealthy family in Sussex."

Waverly began placing light butterfly kisses along Nic's collarbone. She was listening, it was just difficult to resist. She could not remember being with a lover that she actually wanted to be with; it was amazing. This however distracted Nicole somewhat.

"Mmm...Ah," she coughed, regaining her composure. "My master, Thomas Wright, was the owner of a large building firm. He was a stern, uncaring man. I was one of three others who worked his house. His wife was slight, and constantly ill. All but one of his children had died during birth. So it was our task to take care of her while he was away. This oft was for weeks at a time. The work was not difficult, but with little to eat and no education, we were worth little. My contract was to be upheld until I turned eighteen. When the time came I was given three pounds and sent on my way."

Waverly stopped her kisses to listen more intently, head resting upon Nic's chest. She herself could remember little before the year she came to the Moulin Rouge from Britain. She thought it best that way, though their stories were similar.

Nicole paused for a moment before resuming her story, "It was after that when I began my journey to London. All the things I had heard tale of the city as a child had captivated me. I had hoped to find my salvation."

"Was it not what you hoped it to be?" Waverly asked gently.

With a wry smile Nic shook her head, "No, no it was not. I had no trade skill, nor could I read or write. I was but a young girl in a city that threatened to sweep me away. I still am..." she gave a light laugh. "I was forced to take another position as a servant; this time for a small investment banker just outside the city. He was fair and I had a roof over my head. For the next year and a half I saved what money I could. As soon as I had acquired enough to buy my passage to France, I cut my hair and bought men's garments."

"What gave you the idea to live as a man? And what brought you to choose Paris? Surely there are other, less dangerous places you could have chosen."

"While I was in London I saw advertisements for music hall performers. One act caught my eye in particular. It was a woman impersonating a man. And how gay it was! That was when I began to think of it. If one woman could do it for entertainment, why couldn't I? Women's work has always been in the home, without a husband and a family of my own, I knew I could never have more." Nic quieted then. She had never been in love, nor had any man courted her. She'd realized in herself a predilection for the fairer sex. That made wanting a family of her own painful; it would never be possible. 

Waverly noticed the sadness in those brown eyes then and pulled her closer. She yearned to see Nicole happy. This melancholy broke her heart. Reaching a hand up to caress the curve of her lover's jaw, she placed a light kiss upon her lips. Before she could say something Nic began again, "I chose Paris after hearing of the Bohemian Revolution. It gave me hope that someone like me, unique, could make something of myself. Devote the rest of my life to art, painting perhaps..." Her tone was despondent, eyes cast to the floor as though searching for something she might never find.

"Oh Nic! You've no idea how much I envy you! To make such decisions, the courage you have! How can you be so sad? You have your freedom," Waverly was inexplicably compelled to make her see. 

A small smile tugged at Nicole's lips then, and Wave's responding confused frown made it grow. "My life has not been made any simpler. But you are right. I am free..." A long moment passed before she spoke again. "I was thinking...you could be too..."

"Could be what?"

"As free as I."

"How?" Waverly's brows knit together in confusion. Surely she could not imitate what Nicole had done.

"You could stay with me. I could work; we could have our own home. You would be free to do as you pleased. I could surely make enough to keep us both comfortable... Of course, you could leave whenever you wished. I would not keep you."

A long moment passed "...do you mean that?" Waverly asked in a low voice. Unwilling to let her self believe such a dream could come true.

"Yes."

Waverly sat up to look Nicole in the eye then; and found nothing but sincerity there. A smile formed on her lips as she felt her heart swell in her chest. Nic was the most amazing person she'd ever met, regardless of gender or the offer. Yes, going with Nicole was most agreeable. But she could find no words to express what she felt for the other woman in that moment, so she settled for a breathtaking kiss. Confirming that they both would be free; together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought! If you want you can hit me up on the Twitter @fanwolf1216


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